This Is Not What I Expected

This Isn’t What I Expected Lusty-eyed dreams, Broken nightmares, This is what it has risen from the cream, This is not what I’d wished to fare, Yet, I’m the bad one, The one who no one loved, But, that’s not why I’m done, The one who no one loved, Literally, I’m few—and far between, Figuratively, I’m he who haunt the tragic scene, For, I am a teenage failure awaiting being seen, As, I sit and read, and read, and read this screen, The cursor dancing in rhythm, At such steady pace, Marching to the beat of its own rhythm, Oh, Quite, Unlike, my own race, Scurrying, Scarcely, Scurried, Flee, Fled, Fleeting, This is what I’ve amounted to—hurried, Nothing more than a wasted—mass.